


100 Ways

by jurdanhell



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 3: The Queen of Nothing, But also not, F/M, QoN - Freeform, a collection of one-shots, anygays, here we go folks, holly black - Freeform, how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories, htkoelths, i dunno they might link together somehow, if that makes sense, jardan, jurdan - Freeform, just with time in between each snippit, like within the same universe, tcp, the cruel prince - Freeform, the folk of the air, the wicked king, this is like., twk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jurdanhell/pseuds/jurdanhell
Summary: how many times can you tell someone, without telling them at all?
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. Pull Over, I'll Drive

“Jude, you totally did.” Cardan said, sipping from a dark gray tumbler. Jude shook her head. She definitely did  _ not _ almost hit a raccoon. She just wanted to see if Cardan was paying attention.

The sun set low in the sky. Glorious shades of orange and gold cast light along the trees, the leaves fell against the dark, wet pavement like shooting stars. Jude flipped down her visor.

She adjusted in her seat for the third time in the last five minutes. She cleared her throat. “Remind me why we have to go?” Cardan played with the radio, never sticking to a single station for more than a few minutes. Jude couldn’t count how many times she’d smacked his hands away. 

“Because Vivi invited you?” He’d resumed staring out the window, probably imagining a ninja-like figure darting over the objects the car passed, somehow keeping pace with the vehicle as it sped along the highway. She was dating a child.

“Even Vivi could not convince me. So why am I driving across three states to go to my father’s stupid holiday party?” Cardan could feel the agitation roll off her in waves. The heat in her voice coaxed him from the lull of a game he occupied himself with as his phone charged. 

Cardan swallowed the sigh that rose in his throat, knowing that some deep part of her knew the answer she was looking for anyways. “Because he’s your father. And even if you hate him, some part of you cares for him. Because he wants to see you, and because you miss him.”

“I do  _ not _ miss him. I hate him.” Jude said, her knuckles whitening against the plush fabric of the steering wheel cover. It was silly; Cardan had gotten her the stupid, pink fuzzy thing for her birthday a few years back as a joke, back when she still hated him. He hadn’t realized it was anything she used, let alone kept, until much later.

Cardan nodded. “Yeah, I know. But you love him, too.” He took a loud sip from his tumbler. “Care for him, at the very least.” Jude sighed deeply, her release quite visible atthe side of Cardan’s vision. 

He flipped the radio station again. 

“You know,” he said. “You don’t have to stay for long.  _ You don’t have to stay at all,  _ but you know I’m always down for ditching. Before and during.” He flashed her a smile. 

Jude stared straight ahead at the road, not sparing him a single glance. Exhaustion lined her face. Her eyebrows knitted together the way they did when she was very clearly lost in thought. Cardan rested a hand against hers.

She stared at where their hands met, smiled softly after a moment. “This is stupid. I don’t even know why I care.”

Cardan rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand softly, drawing shapes against her skin where he could. “But you do,” he said, more to the window than to Jude. “You do care, and that’s what matters.”

The sky was several shades darker, now. The sun long since lost to the horizon. Cardan sang loudly to the lyrics of some song that came across the radio. Jude was just glad he’d stopped flipping through the channels like a maniac. She was just glad that he was enjoying himself, at least a little bit. At least for now. 

There was no part of Madoc’s holiday party that would end well. There was no instance that they’d entirely gotten along in years. It’d been barely contained, nearly empty threats and hushed, angry words whenever they were near each other. They were like two starving dogs, begging to claw each other apart if it meant one of them would live.

Jude smiled to herself as Cardan  _ almost _ hit a very high note, making it sound like he’d missed it horribly. “Bit pitchy,” she muttered to herself, smiling all the same.

“You wanna try, Duarte?” Her last name had always sounded foreign on his tongue  — like every inch of his body knew that last name wouldn’t quite fit forever.

She scoffed loudly, shaking her head again. Jude yawned into her hand. 

“If you could have any obscure body part — animalistic or not — what would it be?” Cardan said, changing the subject. She’d grown fond of the way he moved from one topic to the next, had the excitement and questions of a child. The vocabulary wasn’t too far off, either. Once, he’d asked her what her third favourite reptile was. She was too confused by the “third favourite” part to move onto the reptile portion of the question.

Jude quirked a brow, then shrugged. 

“I think I’d have a tail. Like a lion, maybe.” Jude hummed in agreement. There was something fitting about it, though she couldn’t place why, or what. She smiled to herself, then yawned again. 

Cardan turned the radio volume down to near zero. “Pull over, let me drive.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said through a yawn. Cardan stared blankly at her.

A passing car flashed their brights at her, and Jude blinked hard. Her thighs were stiff and sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Her eyes ached from the empty gaze she’d managed to keep up as she stared down the dark pavement. 

Cardan grunted beside her, unconvinced. “You very clearly are not.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, the touch soft and gentle. “Pull over.” He swept a strand of hair that strayed from the knot on the top of her head behind her ear. “Let me drive.”

Jude glanced in the rearview, then at Cardan, who was smiling a little too much for her liking. That’s what she told herself, anyways. Jude switched her turn signal on, and pulled off to the side of the road. She turned on her four-ways and took a deep breath. Cardan was already unbuckled and had started to reach for the door handle when she turned to him. “You know,” where was she going with this? Her thoughts spun around her in a dizzying array, the coherence far lost, gone deep within her exhaustion muddled mind. 

She swallowed. Cardan retracted from the door and wrapped her up into his chest. She’d hesitated for too long. 

Jude opted for whispering it against his chest, instead. If he heard it, then that was fine. If not, then she guessed it must suck to be him. “Thank you.”

Cardan brushed more hair from her face. He hushed her, too, meaning he’d heard her after all.  _ Swell. _ She supposed she could always blame it on being tired, if he asked. She knew he wouldn’t. 

Moving from one seat to the next was blurry in her head. She thought Cardan might have hugged her again when they’d met in front of the car. Might have tucked her under his chin for a brief moment. Might have even pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. She couldn’t be sure.

Cardan hadn’t been driving for more than ten minutes when Jude’s soft snores snapped him out of a story he was telling. Something about a raccoon and nearly causing a massive butterfly effect that resulted in going to Madoc’s anyways. All Jude knew for certain was the dreams of Cardan’s hugs and butterflies. The soft lull of his voice as he sang along to the radio that had long since been turned off.

She woke again to bright sunlight pouring in through the passenger side window. The car was parked at a gas station, had been for a short minute. Cardan sat next to her, two fresh coffees in hand as she picked at the hair that was plastered to her sleep-stricken face. He smiled softly at her, and Jude felt renewed. Restored.

Maybe that stupid holiday party would be okay. As long as Cardan was with her.


	2. It Reminded Me of You

Cardan sat at his desk, typing on his laptop, gaze occasionally drifting to the new candle he’d bought recently. He kept telling himself he wasn’t going to burn it. That that wasn’t what it was for. Cardan couldn’t count how many times he’d stopped what he was doing to smell it, to just inhale it’s soft scent for a moment. To get lost in something again. 

He folded his hands under his chin. Took a sip of some herbal tea concoction that someone recommended once. It was horrible. He drank it anyways. 

The Spotify playlist he’d hit shuffle on was the only solace that spun him away from his thoughts, the messy twine of threads knotted together. If they were the threads of fate, it certainly said a lot about his future. Cardan hummed softly to the song playing in the background. 

He savoured the click of the keys on his keyboard, soft against the muffled feeling in his head. Everything was soft. Everything was quiet. And still, somehow, it felt like too much altogether. 

Cardan stood from his desk abruptly, his chair scratching against the floor. He didn’t notice. He was halfway across the room, had nearly tripped over the stray comforter nowhere near his bed when the song changed. That, he heard. 

He couldn’t say he understood the appeal to half of the songs that were selected for the playlist. But he appreciated them, for one reason or another. He’d never tell. 

Cardan stopped short, listening to the soft intro, the heavy bass drop as the lyrics rang through him. He felt alone again. Messy. Disturbed in one of the worst ways. Cardan felt stripped bare.

Hastily, he swept himself into the small kitchen his apartment had and opened the fridge. He wasn’t even hungry. He took a water bottle that had been shoved into the back and closed the door, eyes lingering for a moment at the photo that had been pinned there by a magnet, the photo that rested at his eye level, the photo of him and Jude. Cardan groaned internally. _Why couldn’t she just tell him what was wrong?_

That seemed like the simplest thing to do. The most logical conclusion. He’d given her the space she’d asked for. Hadn’t texted her more than once, only asking if she wanted to talk. He hadn’t gotten a response. 

Cardan tossed his comforter onto his bed haphazardly, his sheets askew, laundry piling in the corner. He sank back into his desk chair and ran his hands through his hair. Looking up, his eyes landed on the candle he’d bought. Not letting himself think about it for another moment, not willing to let himself think too much at all, he lit the candle. He’d buy another one.   
It was a pretty thing, the wax a soft white, the candle a green glass that reminded him of a mosaic. The smell, though, was something soft and heavenly. It was gentle and cruel at the same time. It was like the prettiest of glass figurines. But glass cuts all the same.

 _Lemongrass and lavender_ , the tag on the bottom read. Cardan had long since ripped it off. He watched the flame dance, contained by the thick glass lip of the candle. He blew it out, relit it using the smoke trail. He watched it dance for what was probably an eternity. His laptop closed and pushed aside to make room for the sharp little flame. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d watched it dance in it’s small glass container, how long he’d closed his eyes and smelled it gently, his thoughts carrying him somewhere softer. Only that his current daydream of sleepy mornings had been interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

Standing, Cardan couldn’t remember if he’d ordered any food. Didn’t think he had, but grabbed his wallet from his bedside table anyways. 

He opened the door, wallet open and in the middle of deciding if he wanted to take the food first or hand them money. Instead, he shoved his wallet into Jude’s face. 

“I don’t want your money, dumbass.” It was a casual way of greeting from her, nearly endearing. He blinked, still processing that he’d nearly smacked his wallet into her, and that she was not in fact someone delivering food. Cardan retracted his hand. “Got your text.”

He nodded, feeling more like a ghost by the minute. Swallowing, he stepped out of the doorway, welcoming her inside. Jude took two steps before raising a brow, turning to him on her heel with her arms crossed. 

Cardan tilted his head, and Jude’s expression softened. She walked back to him, all two of the steps she’d taken, and collapsed into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist, felt herself cave in at his touch. She thought she could live in that moment: their seclusion from the rest of the world. How she could never regret a single other thing in her life if it meant she didn’t have to let go again.

She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding him, nor how quick he’d been to tuck her under his chin, bring her to his chest. It was like the world’s easiest puzzle, the way they fit together. It was like the most complicated thing in the world, and Jude didn’t want to change a bit of it. 

Jude swallowed deeply. “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken it aloud. It was the single thought that echoed against everything she did in the time she’d spent apart from him. It hadn’t even been long, not more than two days, and yet she found herself aching at the thought of slipping away from him like she was never there to begin with. He was her revival, her restoration. 

She inhaled deeply, choking back tears she couldn’t make herself release, and turned away from him. “What is that?” She said, looking for the source of the soft, sweet smelling thing that covered his apartment like a warm blanket.

He hummed, not knowing what she was asking about. Jude stepped around the clothes that littered his floor. Cardan did his best to kick them off to the side, trying to make the space look cleaner than it really was, like everything inside and out about him wasn’t a complete and utter mess. 

He followed her into his small, cramped bedroom, eyeing the candle she was holding. Watching the expression she was keeping carefully neutral. Jude looked at him. Cardan looked at the floor. She quirked a brow and placed it back on the desk where she found it. 

He looked up at her, and noticed her noticing the familiar scent. Shrugging, he answered her quietly. “It reminded me of you.”

Jude blew out the candle in one breath, and stepped back into his embrace in the next. “I’m right here,” she said into his chest. “And you don’t need a reminder of me anymore.” Cardan looked at her, eyebrows pinching together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jude said, voice quiet but firm, still staring into his chest. Cardan pulled her back into his embrace, and it was the easiest thing they’d done in perhaps too long. She let the words she didn’t say hang off her tongue, heavy with a feeling she wasn’t ready to uncover. _I’m home._


End file.
